We'll be Okay
by Dedeen
Summary: What happened after the Murder episode


Due to the lack of JAM fluff in the episodes, my mind began to wonder. So, this is a small outcome of it.

Diclaimer: I own nothing, if I did Jim would have replaced Andy in Koi Pond.

**EmilyHalpert **is the BESTEST Beta, just saying...

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I don't know what happened tonight. I want to blame it on the hormones, but I know that's not fair. Today was just one of those weird, stressful days where we're just a bit out of sync. But honestly, I don't remember a time in our lives that things had been this chaotic. And trust me, things have gotten crazy in the past. I feel like everything snowballed and trampled over Jim and I, leaving us cold and vulnerable.

Dunder-Mifflin is going under. And I don't want to ponder on the implications this brings. Besides, I can't help but hope it isn't true. It's too frightening because now we're three. Jim's is an eternal optimist and I love that about him. I love that he wants to give me a sense of security, but today I just needed him to be honest with me. And that's how everything started.

I know that there was more to Wallace's phone call than he let on. His nonchalance didn't dupe me, especially after the morbid silence during our drive home. I know my husband and I could see the anguish in his facade. I just wanted him to share, vent with me, his wife, his best friend.

I tried making small talk, recounting the game we played and how I would've won if he just waited a while longer. I teased our coworkers and even hinted at a possible naughty appearance of my character tonight. But nothing. I felt like a gerbil on a wheel, running but no traction, never getting anywhere.

When we arrived home, I began to take his silence personally. Did he think I couldn't handle the truth?

"Jim, tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong," he said curtly.

"Jim," I said pleadingly, "I know something's wrong."

"It's nothing you should worry about," he brushed it off and padded to the kitchen.

_Nothing_ _I should worry about_? I followed him. "Babe, what affects you, affects me, affects us," I said, rubbing my belly for emphasis.

"I know," he agreed, "And that's why _you_ shouldn't worry about it."

I inhaled deeply. "What did Wallace say?"

Jim was taken aback. "He um…said nothing. They haven't decided anything yet."

"Dunder-Mifflin is going under, uh?" I ventured.

His whole body tensed. "Pam, I told you we're good company. This is just a bit of a rough patch. We'll be fine, okay?" He placed his hand around my waist and planted a kiss on my forehead.

I wanted to believe him.

"We need to have a backup plan. How about that job offer you got a while back?"

"No," he pulled back, "We're not losing our jobs."

"Jim," I insisted, "what if—"

"I don't want to do this," he said walking towards the fridge.

"We have to consider our opt—"

"No. We don't." He shut the fridge door a bit forcefully. "We're not going under." I couldn't tell if he was saying that more to himself than to me.

"Jim, you trying to hide it from me is not shielding me of anything!" I exclaimed. "You're pushing me away."

"Pushing you away? Pam, you don't really believe that?"

"So, why can't you just tell me?"

Jim's face fell. "Pam, there is nothing to tell."

I began pacing around the kitchen. Our child chose that moment to kick and thrust its tiny limbs under my ribs. My hands instinctively slipped to stroke my distended stomach. Jim was quick to notice.

"We shouldn't do this."

"Do what?"

"This," he gestured between us.

Teas brimmed my eyes as I pushed my way out of the kitchen and stomped up the stairs. And here is where I blame the hormones.

"You can still talk to me, I'm pregnant, not broken!"

I walked to our bedroom and plopped myself on the bed and cried. Our child definitely sensed the tension and bundled on one side of my belly, nestling quietly there. I know what I said was irrational and perhaps childish, but I desperately just wanted him to talk to me. No more games.

It's been a while since I've been up here. Jim has climbed the stairs a total of three times already, but for some reason he gives up halfway. I want to go talk to him, like _really_ talk to him. I'm scared. We have a baby on the way and I can't ignore my qualms. I understand that he wants to protect me, really, but it's not what I need now.

He is climbing the stairs for the fourth time now. This time he makes to the top and I can hear him shuffling towards our bedroom. There is an instant of total silence and my heart skips a beat.

The door creaks open and I hear him sigh. He walks over to the bed and places something with a clatter on the nightstand. He made grilled cheese. I can smell it. I feel the bed shift as he sits near the edge and then I hear the thud of his shoes as it hits the floor. He carefully climbs into bed and sits with his legs stretched out in front of him.

"I made grilled cheese," he chirps. He knows I can't refuse comfort foods. But I'm not ready to give in yet. "I also have tomato soups sprinkled with cheese," he adds. He came well prepared.

But I'm still silent, aside from my occasional case of the sniffles. Hormones.

"Pam," he begins. I can see him reaching for me, though I have my back to him. "Wallace hasn't finalized a plan yet, but he isn't optimistic." He searches for my hand and intertwine his fingers with mine. "But I'm." He squeezes my hand and continues, "I wouldn't have stayed at Dunder-Mifflin if I thought it was going under." His hand slips to my belly and his touch is so achingly sweet. "All I want is to take care of you and our baby."

As if knowing his (or her) dad is near, our baby uncoils from the curve of my belly and begins to nudge me. I turn to Jim with tears threatening to release from the back of my eyes. "I know." I say. "You scared?"

"Yes," he admits. "I'm scared of letting you—us down."

I try propping myself up, but it's harder than I thought, so he helps. "Jim, you can never let us down." I inch closer to him. "It's impossible."

His face softens as he pulls me into his arms. He smells like cologne and toner. "You," he strokes my belly, "are everything to me." I burrow my face in his chest. I'm too vulnerable right now. He strokes my hair and whispers softly in my ear. "We'll be okay."

This time, I believe him.

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Thanks for reading! 33


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